#rt reader inserts

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 11 - Desperate Times

In an act of sheer desperation, Y/N prays to the one man that is always listening.

(1.3k)

Sam’s head comes clean off with a swift slice to the neck, rolling to the floor with a sickening splat. His knees buckle as his body collapses on the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him. His wide, lifeless eyes stare at Dean, the pained look forever painted on his face.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells with a strangled cry, his body pinned against the wall by an invisible force.

“Wait your turn,” Lucifer taunts, admiring his work with a twisted smile.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shakes with anger.

Lucifer shakes his head and laughs like Dean had just told him the funniest joke.

“Sammy…” Dean whispers, unable to peel his eyes away from his mutilated brother. Tears stream down his cheeks, a look of horror and sadness pains his face.

“Now,” Lucifer steps over Sam with complete disregard for what he’s done. “you won't be getting off so easily.” He stops, just inches away from his face.

“I know what you’ve been doing with my lover,” he growls, his irises glowing their intimidating red color. He caresses his cheek with the knife, just teasing the skin.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” He presses the blade just above his cheekbone, leaving a deep gash.

Dean grits his teeth, refusing to show his pain to Lucifer.

“Did you really think she could ever love someone like you?” Lucifer seethes, his face twisting with anger. “She is mine!” He growls. His hand flys up to grasp Dean’s neck, squeezing with an unrelenting force.

Dean desperately gasps for air, his eyes bulging and face turns a cherry red. “FUCK… YOU!” He chokes out, spitting directly in his face.

Lucifer growls and wipes the spit from his face in disgust. Without a second thought, he plunges the blade deep into his chest, taking pleasure in the gush of blood splattering his face.

Dean lets out a strangled scream that’s cut off by him choking on his own blood. His eyes widen with horror before going slack. His head drops forward and his body hangs limply.

“Pity, the game was over so fast.” Lucifer frowns. He releases his hold on Dean and his body slumps to the ground, twisting in grotesque ways. He crouches to his knees, looming over the bloody scene. “But it was fun while it lasted.” He smiles, admiring the gruesome scene he created.

-------------

“NO!” I shot up in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. Unrelenting tears stream down my face to the point my vision is completely blurred. My chest becomes tight, my breathing coming in more shallow until I’m full on hyperventilate. My wings curl around me, shaking.

After what feels like hours, I calm myself down enough to get a grip on reality and swallow down my panic. “They’re not dead. Not yet. I can feel it.” For once, my connection with Lucifer is a blessing rather than a curse. “There’s still time,” I reassure myself, calming my nerves.

Jumping out of bed, I grab the phone that Sam had given me for emergencies and dial his number with shaky hands .

“Pick up dammit. PICK UP!” I curse, pacing back and forth as the phone rings.

“It’s Sam, leave a message,” the answering machine says as if it were taunting me.

“We need to talk, NOW!” I leave a message, before disconnecting. I desperately dial Dean’s number, praying that he will pick up.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

“We need to talk immediately! I’m serious, you’re in danger!” I yell into the phone, before disconnecting the call once again.

------------------------------------------------------------

6 hours. It’s been 6 fucking hours since I first called. No response. What’s the point of leaving me a number if you wont even pick up the phone.

I twirl the cheap burner phone in my hand, taking another sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. In times like this, I don’t see the point of drinking from a glass, I’d only have to refill it countless times.

I clumsily dial Sam's number again for what must be the hundredth time today. At this point, the sound of his voice on the answering machine practically burned into my brain. 

“It’s Sam, leave a message.” 

“FUCK!” I yell, just barely resisting the urge to smash the phone on the ground to pieces. I down the last of the bottle, still not feeling as drunk as I would like to be.

I can’t stop my brain from running a million miles per minute, replaying the thoughts that have plagued my brain for hours. I’ve considered the possibilities over and over, every single course of action I could possibly take. It all leads to the same conclusion. I know what I must do.

Calling up Dean’s phone for the last time, I pray that he answers. The phone rings and the last bit of hope that I hold onto slips away as the familiar recorded message plays.

““This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

I sigh and pause for nearly a minute, unsure of what to say, before I bite down my fear and start talking. “Dean, I’m not sure what to say, but I want to leave you one final message. You and Sam are in serious danger. I had a dream that Lucifer kills you both, and I can’t let that happen. I know what I have to do,” I pause for a second. “I’m going to give myself over to Lucifer in exchange for your lives. I’ll ensure Castiel gets home too. This is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up.” I fall silent, choking back the tears that threaten to spill. 

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I’m sorry it ends like this. I’m sorry for everything. I’m just… I’m so sorry Dean. I wish we never got into that stupid fight, I wish I could've told you how much I care about you, how you make me feel things I can’t explain.”

“Tell Sam, thank you for everything,” I sniff.

“I guess this is goodbye Dean, take care.” I end the call, the line goes dead with a long beep. I smash the phone on the ground, broken pieces shooting off in every direction, releasing just a smidge of the pent up frustration that I have been holding onto.

I wipe my eyes and put on my best poker face. I take one last look around at the bunker. It had once been an unfamiliar prison that I was confined to, but now, it’s like the home I’ve always desperately craved. A deep sadness radiates through my core as I give one last goodbye to my home and the only family I've ever had. I find my way to the exit, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind me.

Stepping into the outdoors, the sun shines high above the sky and thick foliage extends around me, as far as the eye can see. The fact that I am really in the middle of nowhere truly sinks in as I take in the world around me. The soft wind blowing in my hair is a feeling I had almost forgotten in my time hidden away in the bunker. The crows in the tall mossy trees caw and the mourning doves coo softly, perhaps the last sign of innocent life I'll see for a long time. 

I close my eyes and pray to the one man that I know is always listening. “Okay Lucifer, come and take me. I’m ready.”

In a matter of seconds, the sound of wings flapping rushes through the wind and Lucifer stands tall before me. He’s covered head to toe in what I can only assume is Cas’s blood.

“Hello my love.” He gives me a cocky, but sweet smile. His eyes gaze into mine with an adoring look. “Just couldn’t resist, huh?” He chuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.” He places a hand on the small of my back and in the blink of an eye, the world spins and I’m taken far away from the bunker.

Series Masterlist

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Tags: @roseblue373

[garessta8]

Hot (lukewarm?) take: I feel like saying this "Void. Take. You." to Heinrix is really unfair to him. Just like making him choose between his duty to the Inqusition and his love for Rogue Trader in general.

Short version: this ranges between emotional manipulation and giving Heinrix impossible demands.

Long version:

Just think about it.

Here our sweet bun Heinrix put effort and time to arrange a date with you (the Rogue Trader insert in this case; the player AND the character; and also the reader of these words). He doesn't take you for granted, doesn't try to trick you, doesn't play games with you. He's just being nice, despite being in a generally bad mood lately for various reasons.

Even when you point the bad mood out, and what he worries about is that his moods have inconvenienced you!

And the reason for these moods... Is that he's afraid of the time when he will be forced to leave you. Because Heinrix is essentially a slave to the Inquisition. Hell, even if he wasn't in Inquisition's service, he'd be in service of someone or something else.

Even sanctioned psykers aren't left to just live their own lives in the Imperium. They are always in someone's service, except for some extremely (compared to the total amount of psykers) rare cases of psyker inquisitors, Rogue Traders and such.

Heinrix was a slave since he was discovered to be a psyker. He's only more a slave in the Inquisition, because the only way you leave it is in a coffin.

And of course, the entire "duty to the Imperium" and "you are a subhuman mutant" brainwashing Heinrix went through.

Considering this, blaming Heinrix for accepting his duty as something inescapable, inevitable and impossible (bad!) to fight against... is just cruel and unfair.

He doesn't choose between being with you forever and a well-paid white-collar job in the office.

In his mind, he chooses between being with you forever (in sin of heresy and abandonment of his duty; until an Inquisition-paid assassin kills him) and his holy duty to the Imperium (the only thing that can justify an existence like his in eyes of the Emperor).

It's a testament for how love-starved Heinrix is that he can choose the first option at all. (Oh, and it's a worthwhile to notice imo that he loves you dearly until the end of his life even if he chooses duty. Of course, the epilogue slide can be interpreted several ways, but seriously though... The ice scene plays almost the exact same way whether you "corrupt" Heinrix or not.)

Rogue Trader as a game is very generous with us players by letting us keep Heinrix as Master of Whispers without anybody killing him for heresy. (There are, of course, many reasons why this could be possible, starting with RT's influence, possible C'tan, Xavier being too dead to care and/or too in cohorts with RT to not spare an acolyte, other inquisitors not knowing about Heinrix, etc. etc. Still.)

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Marching on

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets yelled at, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

“Quicken that pace battalion, this isn't some training course on Kamino!” 

If you had to hear one more fucking command from Krell, you may just inject him with all the painkillers in your pack.

It’s been almost 4 hours of his self-importance. You were patient, but by all the gods in existence you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Fives scoffed next to you, “The uh…new General has a way with words.” His tone was directed at Rex, who had wanted you at the front of the march with him. 

His reasoning for such a formation? ‘Keep an eye on the supplies’. In reality? ‘to protect you.’

The clone captain looked to the ARC trooper, “He's just trying to keep us on schedule.”

“By raising everyone’s ire?” You leaned forward slightly to look over at your lover. You didn’t mean to give him any grief, but it was a good question. Just what was Krell hoping to achieve by annoying everyone?

“Either way he's in charge, and we got a job to do.” Rex responded taking your question in stride, “Treat him with respect and we'll all get along fine.”

You sighed, “As long as that respect is mutual.”

“You know we don’t always get that luxury.” The captain looked at you. You could practically feel his disapproving gaze through his visor.

You backed down, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already was, “I know…I know…just…” With another sigh, you gave him a soft smile, “Just want to keep you and everyone else safe.”

“Especially me?” Fives chimed in, a smirk clear in his voice. 

You snorted, “Yes Fives, especially you.”

Rex let out a soft laugh, “That’s enough chatter. We need to focus.” 

“Speaking of.” The ARC trooper nudged the captain and pointed upward, “Do you see that?”

In the distance, two glowing…beasts were flying directly towards your battalion. They had impressive speed as they descended quickly. Their bodies were triangular, with bioluminescent under bellies and spiked tails.

“Yea, ready your weapons!” Rex commanded, pulling his pistols. The other troopers followed his lead. The barrage of blaster fire began as soon as one of them swooped, yanking an ARF trooper, Jock, from his AT-RT. It turned sharply and let go, slamming the clone downward into the ground.

You heard the crack through the blasters.

The second dove and grabbed a trooper behind you. He cried out in pain and fear as it flew upward again, taking him from the ground. The shots continued and you got up from the speeder to tend to the down ARF trooper. 

You didn’t make it far, as the first glowing beast made a second swoop aiming for you. Jesse, to his credit, did a wonderful job of protecting you by tackling you to the ground for the second time in a rotation, “Oh no you don’t!” He growled, aiming his gun upward and firing. 

The bioluminescent creature dodged every shot and made another turn, lifting upward to make another pass. 

“Thanks, second time you saved me.” You nodded to him, getting up and rushing to Jock. His leg was broken, fibula stabbing through broken plastoid. Immediately you administered painkillers. This poor man was probably in agony.

Krell had quickly disposed of the second. The Jedi had leapt upward and ripped the beast's claws open, dropping the other trooper. His size and weight worked to the advantage as the animal couldn’t lift. 

The two of them hit the ground where the besalisk stabbed both his lightsabers through its torso. It died with a high pitched screech before Krell sliced the last one as it tried to swoop, bringing it down as well. 

Rex and Fives kept their guns pointed at the beast, but the new General shouted, “anyone else want to stop and play with the animals!?” He punctuated his point by driving his foot down on the creature's body. It jerked before going still, “Didn’t think so. Now keep moving!”

You huffed, turning back to the soldier, “I got you.” Your voice was kind and soft, “I’m not going anywhere, OK?”

He nodded, gloved hands trembling and gripping his thigh. Even with the painkillers, you knew he must’ve been feeling like absolute hell. 

“Jesse,” You looked up at the senior trooper, “Can you get the speeder please?” The soldier needed surgery, but you couldn’t do it here. Not in the open. 

He saluted and quickly stepped away. 

“How bad?” Kix asked, pulling off his pack and kneeling next to you. He remained calm, despite the earlier excitement, “Damn, Jock. Don’t worry. We got you.”

“We are moving!” Krell shouted somewhere behind you. 

“Give us a few minutes!” you snapped, not looking up as you worked. “Help me stabilize the leg, I can't fix it here.”

“We have bacta and medication to deal with any infections later.” the medic beside you nodded, “Get a splint in place.”

“North, take his AT-RT,” You heard Fives’ command the ARF trooper you treated earlier. As soon as the ARC troopers words were spoken, North had gotten up from the stretcher as Jesse approached with the speeder. While you would have preferred him to rest, that currently wasn’t an option. Thankfully, he was at least conscious enough to operate a vehicle. 

Plus, leaving behind a perfectly functional and even devastating weapon in the hands of the enemy was a very bad idea.

Jock was trembling. Pain and shock from staring at his broken leg most likely. Even hardened soldiers would panic at the sight of one of their bones stabbing outside of their body, “Hey Jock, don’t worry. We got you, ok?” You shifted slightly, lowering your face so he’d pay attention to you and not his wound.

“Troopers!” 

“Can you not fucking see-!” a heavy hand yanked you back and to your feet. You stumbled, but kept upright. 

Krell was glaring at you, a fire of wrath in his eyes,“I told you, we. are. Moving! Do not ignore a direct order!” 

Now it was your turn to be enraged, “Respectfully, General, my priority is to the wellbeing of this army. It is my duty as a field doctor to help them when they’re injured. Surely as a jedi you understand the importance of duty.” You kept your eyes on him, refusing to look away. 

Arguing with your General normally wasn’t an option. However, in your training it was emphasized that your rank as a medic held special privileges, such as ignoring orders that may inhibit you from caring for the wounded.

But something told you that the Jedi in front of you didn’t really care.

You didn’t see how Hardcase held Rexs’ arm, doing his best to keep the captain from making a grave mistake. He was normally able to think clearly and not let his emotions dictate his decisions. Unless it came to you. The one he loved so dearly.

The new General huffed and straightened his back, “You have 60 seconds to get him stabilized and loaded on to the stretcher,” He clasped his arms behind him again and began to walk to the front, he turned his head back at you, “Next time, I will not stand for such insubordination, because it is my duty to lead these troops so the Republic can take the capital of this planet.” 

You swallowed and saluted, turning back to Jock. With the help of Kix and Jesse, the injured trooper was situated on the stretcher. You gave him another dose of painkillers and let him drift off to sleep. 

“You can tell the General we had 20 seconds to spare.” You grumbled to Fives, getting back on your speeder. Within minutes a formation was established again. Your pace was with the men, staying behind Rex, Fives and Krell. 

“Are you ok?” Kix asked as he walked next to you. 

“Yes.” You rubbed your face in your hand, ignoring the small sting of the blaster burn to your cheek. You still hadn’t dealt with it yet. 

Your medic friend patted your back in sympathy. He shared your frustrations. 

Anakin would never have pulled you away from tending to the injured. He would have knelt down and helped you, or had his lightsabers ready to protect you. His padawan would have done the same, perhaps even go after whoever injured the trooper to begin with. 

But Anakin wasn’t here. Neither was Ahsoka. Instead, you were stuck with Pong fucking Krell. 

About an hour later Rex had slowed his pace to walk next to you, “Mesh’la.” He spoke softly, making sure no one else could hear, “You haven’t dealt with the cut on your cheek.” 

Oh. Right, you keep forgetting about it. 

“It’s alright.” You gave him a small smile, “the men are going to need all the bacta they can get. A tiny scratch like this doesn’t matter.” 

He remained silent for a moment before shaking his head, “Please be careful, the men need you.” His words hid the true meaning, from everyone except you. 

I need you. 

“I am, Captain.” You answered, “You just promise me you’ll stay alive to lead us.” 

Please don’t become one of the injured I have to treat. 

“I promise.” His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to cup your injured cheek and kiss it better. But not right now. Not around others. Not in such a hostile place.

“Captain Rex.” Your voice became quieter, “Ner kar’ta.” 

“Ner narser.” He whispered back before straightening up. Your lover became the captain again, needing to focus on the mission at hand. Still, to hide your relationship, he spoke slightly louder, letting others hear, “you can’t disobey orders again, understood?” 

You nodded, “yes, Captain. It won’t happen again,” Subtly, you gave him a smile. 

He returned to his position closer to Krell after that. However, occasionally he’d cast a quick glance back at you. 

After about an hour, you heard some whispered chatter behind you. Looking back, you noticed a trooper, Oz, leaning against Tup and limping. You gave him a look of confusion and slowed the speeder to get next to them.

“It's nothing to worry about, Doc.” Oz informed you, “Just…probably twisted my ankle when that beast dropped me.” It was a clear lie. From your perspective it looked more like something had fractured in his knee.

Your gaze drifted to Jock, soundly knocked out on the stretcher. Why are so many soldiers getting leg injuries? 

“Regardless, we can’t know the true extent unless I get a proper look.” your gaze drifted to Krell. The bastard would flip out if he knew you stopped again. Still, Oz needed to get off that leg, “Take the speeder.”

“Doc?”

“You’ve used one right? It's easy.” You slipped off of the vehicle and pushed it along before Oz or anyone could argue, “Take it, at least to rest the ankle.” 

He paused but Tup pulled him slightly, “Come on, doctor's orders.” 

Without much more fuss, the injured trooper did as you directed. He sat down and let out a small sigh of relief, “Thank you.” clearly he hid his pain behind soldier bravado.

You nodded, deciding to walk next to Tup for now. Your eyes went to North, making sure he seemed alert and aware. For now, the ARF trooper was recovering from his wounds well, getting some weight off your shoulders. Still, everyone needed a breather. It's been about five hours since they started marching and while clones had stellar endurance, they would need a break at some point.

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on the backs of those in front of you. It was a few hours later when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Are you ok, Doc?” Tup asked you quietly. 

You couldn’t hide the irritation in your voice, “You are the second person to ask me that within the last few hours. Do I not look ok?” He seemed startled at your response and you honestly felt bad. Poor Tup was barely a shiny, so you sighed and nodded, “Just thinking, Tup. I'm alright.” 

Before he could respond, Hardcase draped his arm over your shoulder, “Hey Doc, I got a cut on my lip. Can you kiss it to make it better?”

You snorted, repressing your laugh. Sometimes the soldiers would flirt and joke, all in good fun. Hardcase was especially friendly, knowing went to chime in to lift the mood. Honestly, you appreciated it. 

Tup looked downright offended on your behalf, “Hardcase!” 

Jesse looked back from his position. Even under the helmet you knew he was looking confused. 

“Whatever happens next, I am not a part of it.” you responded with a shrug, looking ahead. 

“See? The doc doesn’t care, ease up.” Now the hyperactive trooper moved on to leaning against Tup. the two bickered quietly as you continued to walk. However, over time their voices died down.

It was around the 12th hour when you realized the silence was from exhaustion. Everyone, including you, was barely hanging on by a thread. The clone endurance you praised earlier had finally hit its limit.

“Kix,” You stepped up next to him, “Tell Captain Rex that we need a break.” your voice was a hushed whisper. You feared if Krell heard you make the request, he’d push the men even harder out of spite. 

The medic agreed with you and sped up his pace to speak to Rex. You, however, fell back next to the medical speeder and checked on the injured. Oz had been doing a good job at controlling the thing, though you could tell his leg was still bothering him. Jock was still out cold, you and Kix periodically checked to make sure he didn’t wake up in agony. North remained coherent and aware as well, he piloted the AT-RT as if he had never been injured, indicating the bacta you’d given him was working well. 

Your observations came to a halt as Krell’s voice pierced the air, “CT-7567 are you reading me?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Your secret lover sounded as confused as everyone was feeling. 

The jedi continued, “I ask you a question, CT-7567 do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?” Blessedly, he stopped to continue to yell at Rex. Despite how you felt at your lover being targeted so viciously, at least the men had something of a breather. And Rex was a man, he could take an angry General. 

The clone captain shook his head, trying to reason, “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile, despite the difficulty of the conditions the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.” It was a desperate attempt to get some kind of humanity out of the besalisk. 

The General practically snarled and continued his verbal assault, “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” He motioned over all the soldiers behind him, “Look back, see those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly, time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford!” Krell didn’t give up just yet, leaning forward an inch away from the captain's face, “The other battalions are counting on our support, if we fail everyone fails. Do you understand this? Does everyone understand this?!” His yelling was now directed at everyone around him. His critical gaze roamed over the battalion practically challenging anyone to speak up.

When there was only silence, he scoffed and turned, continuing his steps, “Now move on!”

Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly, but quickly, he returned to his stiff and professional posture. With a glance back and a nod, the 501st began to march again.

You shared a look with Hardcase and continued. It was going to be another long few hours of exhausted silence before you stopped again.

[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter!

The year is only halfway done, and yet the US Supreme Court has made this year feel like it's going in reverse. To our non-US members, please keep us in your thoughts. To cheer us all up, have a gif of behind-the-scenes Bobby and Crowley kissing.

Old Business:

Manta Ray in the discord server! Admin Stacey was originally supposed to be in the server yesterday, but due to Life, the Universe, and Everything, had to postpone until today. If you want to come in and chat, head to the discord server in about 10 hours!

It's Fishing For Treasures weekend at the @fanficocean! In July, we're celebrating RPF stories so head on over there this weekend for some quality non-SPN actor fics! In two weeks, we'll be doing the same thing here, so if you've got some RPF fic recs for us, either submit a link via the submit button on the blog, or drop a link in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in the discord server. The deadline to submit is Friday, July 14th at midnight, Eastern US time.

Last week's #TweetFicTues prompt was:

Still working on building our own prompt generator, and what's coming out of what we have so far is WILD! How about for your #TweetFicTues you have Amara as a tattoo artist and Zeus as a chef in the 1980's with singing? Remember to tag us in whatever you write so we can RT it!

New Business:

Angel Fish Award nominations for June are due tonight! Although we accept AFA nominations all the time, the deadline tonight is to be included in the raffle drawing for prizes. Check out the prize list here. Every nomination is one entry into the raffle, and you can send in as many nominations as you want! Not sure who's a member? Click here for our member list! Nominations can be submitted via the submit button on the blog, or sent by DM to @mrswhozeewhatsis. Just send us a link to the fic and a few words on why you liked the story!

Manta Ray in the discord server! Next weekend, Admin Michelle will be in the discord server just hanging out! Wanna talk about Tumblr, writing, life, poop, or anything else? Come on in and chat! You can find the exact dates and times of Pond events on the Pond Google calendar, shown in your time zone. Or, stay tuned for announcement posts here on the blog!

Do you know about the Pond Tag Sheet? If not, you should check it out! Writers can use the sheet to find readers who want to read their fics, and readers can be added to the sheet and get notifications in their inbox of new fics they'll love.

Writers: Using the filter function in Google sheets, you can find a list of readers who want to read exactly what you're posting. Readers have to ask to be added to the list, so you know that they WANT you to tag them! There is no worry that you're bugging people, because if they don't want to be tagged, they will ask us to remove them from the list.

Readers: To get yourself added to the list, send an ASK to the blog with the following information: Your URL, if you are over 18 or not, and a list of what you want to be tagged in, organized by tab and column. For example:

Hi! I want to be added to the Tag List, please! My name is Michelle, I'm over 18, and I want to be tagged in the following: CHARACTER READER INSERTS: Fluff, angst, smut, crack, orgies, OC/OFC, Dean, Sam, John, Castiel, Benny, and Gadreel. PAIRINGS: Fluff, angst, smut, crack, all pairings. RPF READER INSERTS: none. GENFIC: fluff, angst, crack, reader insert, non-reader insert, all characters. Thanks!

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That's all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! We try to keep it as up to date as possible. If there's something you want to see on the calendar that's not there (maybe a convention we missed, or cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @princessmisery666, @thoughtslikeaminefield, and @katbratsupernaturalwhore!

[pallysuune]

Get to know you meme

Thank you @holylustration!

Get To Know You Meme

Three Ships: I have so many, and I'm a sucker for reader-inserts, so a lot of them revolve around that (ah, cringe self-indulgence xD) Other than that, keeping it in Warhammer:

Rogue Trader/Heinrix

Rogue Trader/Nocturne

Sevatar/Rushal (don't ask, and don't judge me).

I could have put RT/Marazhai, but I figured I'd do something a little out of left field instead.

First Ship: I genuinely don't even remember. Probably myself and some character. Maybe Link from Legend of Zelda?

Last Movie: Uhhhhh....I was in the room when my husband was watching the new Ghost Busters, does that count?

Last Song: I Feel Like I'm Surfin' On A Giant Pizza Slice Through Outer Space by MC Snax. (XD)

Currently Reading: I'm attempting to finish Ward by JC McCrae (Wildbow), a web novel, but ADD has been kicking in pretty hard.

Currently Watching: Nothing particularly specific. I've been letting a playlist of spooky tik toks play while I'm at work. Off work, it's usually a mix of game let's plays, animal videos, cooking shows, or anime with my husband.

Currently Eating: Toast with cinnamon honey butter, and drinking water.

Currently Craving: Besides an ever present craving for chocolate ice cream, nothing really. XD

Tagging: Anyone who would like to.

[zogdon]

You will comply: This post-Soviet country is too independent for the West. Punishment is at hand — RT World News

Here we go again.. this time it's Georgia under western political attack.

Again and again, the west tried to boss every country that has Own Freedoms as a guide.

But with powerful friends like the Russian Federation, Georgia has nothing to be concerned about.

The latest attacks on Georgia come from Washington's Kiev regime. Zelensky is 'warning' Georgia, as if he already rules in Tbilisi. But the Georgian people just laugh at Zelensky, as the puppet he is.

There is no way, that Georgia will ever join Nato, EU. The Georgian people see very clearly what has happened in Ukraine, and how the Ukrainian people have been used, and have suffered under western occupied Kiev regime.

That's no way forward, for the proud Georgian people.

We were surprised by the Tumblr management, when they inserted a 'warning' type of boxed text, saying: "We believe that this post is connected to the Russian Federation Government."..or, something very close to these words.

We were surprised, because Tumblr has been a fair platform.. didn't silence, nor delete honest, truthful, expert academic research, posted on their platform.

Of course, we give Tumblr room for a sensible excuse.. because they are in the US, and therefore Washington can put much pressure on them, not to allow the Russian side, nor any real proper reporting to surface on the Tumblr platform.

However... We must confirm: OUR RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS ARE COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT FROM ANY GOVERNMENT, ESPECIALLY TOTALLY INDEPENDENT FROM THE GOVERNMENTS IN MOSCOW AND WASHINGTON.

We use Russian media in our research and analysis, as well as the same form the western side.. As All proper research should do, ie. cover both adversaries..tell the story and the evidence presented by both sides, equally balanced.

However, as any proper academic will tell you; in the final analysis, the argument must take a side. Academics who claim 'sitting on the fence position' especially in violent conflicts like Ukraine and Israel, are dishonest, and only waste readers time, and deflect the proper resolution of the conflict.. in other words, support the continuation of war, violence, cold blooded murders of civilians. We see this now in Palestine and Lebanon..so clearly, where a Zionist leader is using endless war, as a way to avoid prison. Similarly, the Zelensky régime in Kiev, won't negotiate, bring Peace.. because then Zelensky's regime will have to call an election, which he will definitely lose. And he knows that very well, as most of the proper research in Ukraine, shows just under 5% support for Zelensky. Ukrainians hate Zelensky so much now, that Zelensky will try to extend the war, forever if he can.. even bring official Nato boots to the battlefields.

Unfortunately, for both, Zelensky and Netanyahu, these are just pipe dreams.. only extending the misery of all people concerned. But that only enlarges the public anger across the world, for both of them.

We believe, that the humanitarian side, the side that tried honestly and fully, exhausting all avenues to achieve sensible non violent resolution, always wins in the end.

And these winning, Justice and Peace driven sides, Are Palestine and the Russian Federation.

This is why, the Georgian people chose the Russian Federation side, overwhelmingly, in their proper, Democratic Elections. The Georgian people know well, that their security and prosperity has always been served best by their Russian Federation family. And they also know very well, that the Palestinian people are also served and defended best by the Russian Federation.

That's regardless of the recent and present Genocides, in Palestine and previously in Ukraine..now it seems in Lebanon as well.

The aggressors know just one way... Always Violence. But if they took the time to read the history of 'aggression', especially western aggression.. they will find just one final result... Always without a fail: The Capitulation of the Aggressor State. In large conflicts, it has always been the western aggression that was destroyed by the Russian/Soviet side. In both conflicts today, again we see the same adversaries.. Russian Federation vs the West/Zionists.

[trecotrash]

I Should Tell You

A/N: Logged on in the first time in forever and finished a draft. 

Pairing:  Trevor Collins x Reader

Description: I’m looking for baggage that goes with mine...I should tell you (I really don’t know how to put an actual description to this besides the two song lyrics)

Inspired by I Should Tell You from Rent

You stormed out of the restaurant and wrapped your coat around you.

“(Y/N), wait!” You kept walking as someone jogged up to you. “(Y/N), just-”

“Just what, Trevor?” you asked as you stopped in your tracks. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What do you mean?” You scoffed and continued you walk to God-knows-where. “(Y/N), what are you talking about?” he inquired as he caught up to you. 

“Oh, you know, just the fact that you invited me to a company party only to ignore me all night long,” you argued. “Look, I get it if you’re not ready for a serious relationship, but that’s a pretty shitty thing to do to someone.” He grabbed your wrist and turned you around. “What?”

“I know,” he sighed. “I know what I did was shitty, and it’s no excuse. All tonight I’ve been trying. I swear. It’s just that...I’ve got a lot of baggage.”

“So does everyone else!” You took a deep breath. “Including me,” you added on. His eyes softened as he loosened his grip on you. Your gaze switched from him to the ground. “Life’s too short to waste any moment on dwelling on it.”

“Well, what’s your baggage?” he questioned.

“Why? It’s not like you care anyways,” you snorted. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “But what if I do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe then I would tell you that I have shit luck when it comes to love.” 

His hand slid down from your wrist to your hand, and he intertwined your fingers. He took a step closer. “What else?” You ran a hand through your hair and shook your head. “(Y/N), what do you mean by that?” he asked. “Because so far, you sound like every other 20-something-year-old.” You rolled your eyes at his statement. “Look, I’m not perfect, but at least I’m trying.”

“Are you really though? Because from what I’ve seen, you left me to fend for myself,” you told him. “You can’t expect me to tell you my fucked up life in exchange for you to feel better about yourself.” You pulled your hand away. “That’s not how this works.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know!” you screamed. He flinched and took a step back. “I’m just looking for baggage that goes with mine, okay?”

“(Y/N), I-”

“Save it,” you interrupted. “It’s clear that you’re not willing to share.” You turned around and started to walk.

“Wait,” he called out. “I should tell you that I’m a disaster.” You stopped in your tracks. “I have a whole story that I’ve never told anyone.

You sighed and turned around. “You have one minute.” He grabbed your hand and took you to a nearby bench. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to go over my story,” he admitted. “I forget how to begin it.”

“You have thirty seconds left, and I have yet to be in it,” you attempted to joke in order to help him feel a bit more comfortable. “If it makes you feel any better, that night when our apartment complex had a power outage, I blew the candle out just so I could get back in.“

He chuckled. “Well up until your candle burned my skin, I had forgotten how to smile.” You cracked a small smile. “If I’m being completely honest, I’m still trying to get to a place where I can trust someone,” he said. 

“And if it’s anything to you, I’m still learning to trust people too,” you confessed. “What made you stop trusting people?”

“Just...my last girlfriend cheated on me,” he told you. “What about you?

“Every single person I’ve met essentially used me to either get to someone else or just for a good fuck.” He took your hand in his and squeezed it tight. “It’s sorta hard believing someone actually wants something real with you when everything before that has been so shitty.”

He took a deep breath. “(Y/N), I want you to know I’d never use you like that.”

“Trevor,” you sighed.

“I mean it,” he reiterated. “I would never hurt you. 

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You find yourself looking out onto the street in front of you. 

Soon enough, you both turned toward each other and said, “I should tell you-”

You bit your lip as he motioned toward you. “You first,” he said. 

“It’s just, I like where this is going,” you breathed out, “but I’m afraid to fall.” 

“Even if you know I’ll be there to catch you?” 

You shook your head. “You’re missing the point. I’m afraid because I don’t know if you’ll be there to catch me,” you told him. “I just...Trevor-”

“(Y/N),” he interjected. “I won’t let you crash and hit the ground. We’ll never know where this goes unless we try though.”

You cocked your head to the side. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying, let’s give this a real shot.”

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 23

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 3500+

Date posted: 25 Nov 2018

“Are you sure you guys don’t need our help?” Trevor asks for what feels like the hundredth time, shuffling his feet and shrugging on a thick black trenchcoat. Fiddling with the sleeves, he casts glance to his girlfriend that makes it undeniably clear that he doesn’t intend on offering his time to the cause. The quirk of an eyebrow challenges her disapproval.

Lauren gives him yet another exacerbated look, taking the challenge in her stride. Hands on her hips, she serves him a look that would have you wincing if you were on the receiving end. Trevor doesn’t shrink away, rather enjoying himself. “Don’t even think about leaving, asshole. We need you here.”

Alfredo nods, looking as though he understands what you’re saying until he opens his mouth. “Well, if you insist.” He readjusts his sweatshirt, making sure his neck is completely engulfed by his red scarf. He hits you with a cheeky grin, lips hidden beneath the fabric. “But don’t pretend like we didn’t offer.”

“You didn’t offer!” you reject vehemently, “and you’re not even listening to us!”

Trevor looks offended, scoffing at the prospect while latching on to Alfredo’s arm - who’s equally insulted - and yanking open the door. “How dare you? We’re going to the tavern, you funky witch bitches, where our talents are appreciated.”

“They’re appreciated here,” wails Lauren, motioning to the sheer size of the task that’ll take over the night.

“Nope, we can tell when we’re not welcome,” interjects Alfredo, clutching his chest and pulling a pained expression. “C’mon Treyco, let’s get outta here.”

Trevor nods firmly, turning on his heels and storming out into the snow, yelping as the cold settles across his skin. Alfredo suddenly looks a lot more apprehensive, taking a moment before following with a hollar, “We’ll drink drink your share, don’t worry!”

“Oh really?” You laugh, watching them traipse through the garden on unsteady feet, wobbling with every hole they slip into. Knees hitting the ground, forcing laughter from their lungs and smiles across their faces. “What a generous offer!”

“You fucking know it!” yells Trevor heroically, beaming back to the lodge, “don’t forget the sacrifices we’ve made here today!”

“Welp, they’re gone and I hate you.” Lauren’s voice doesn’t waver, certain in her statement as she closes the door after a moment, your friends having been swallowed in the night. “I hate you so damn much, Y/N. Do you have any idea how hard it was to carry all this shit back from the library?”

You smile, settling in the firelight cast across the livingroom floor, tea warm against your fingertips. “You made it home though, didn’t you?”

Lauren follows your lead, sighing into her seat. “Barely,” she snorts, “I nearly died.”

“Really?”

“Not at all. Right, where do you wanna start?” She motions to the left of you, battered books clinging to life and enough dust that your throat burns. “Over there we’ve got the handwritten journal of our ghosty friend, and over there we’ve got town records right the way up to the time her son ran Motbury.” She directs your attention to a collection of binders, surprisingly small in comparison to the amount of information you expected. “Not much, right?”

“Yeah,” you frown, flipping through the closest folder, only to be met with architectural plans and a few lackluster excerpts. You could take better notes in your sleep. “Lots of stuff about how he protected the town… That’s kinda really fucking weird. There’s nothing after that.”

She nods, hand running through her hair before she taps her cheeks a few times, determined to stay awake. It’s only once she’s settled and finished rubbing her eyes that she realises her coffee sits on the counter. She frowns. “And the night just got worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

She motions to her cup, your gaze following the saddened expression she throws across the room. A flick of your wrist sees her mood brighten, concentration burning your palms and static in your fingers while the mug rattles excitedly against the bench. Another smooth motion sees her drink lift, your hand pulling the air like a long string until it reaches you. Across the carpet, threat of spilling mounting to an uncomfortable peak before gently coming to rest in front of Lauren.

She grins, relieved when plucking it from your control and taking a sip. A sigh escapes into its depth, rumbling happily. “Oh yeah, that’s the good shit.”

“You’re welcome.”

She peers over the rim, already brightening. “Your Granddad would be so disappointed. ‘Kids these days and not using their legs! Grumble grumble, I’m so old’.” You cackle, her impression knitting her eyebrows together and flattening her lips into a thin line. The short, sharp jerks of her shoulders punctuate every grouchy exclamation, and a finger jams her glasses up the bridge of her nose so roughly you can practically hear them clatter against her skull. “What next, huh? ‘Back in my day we punched each other for fun. Burnt women at the stake for friend-zoning us’.”

“Stop,” you wheeze, putting your tea down before it can spill. Between laughter she flicks a spark into your cup, contents steaming once again. “Granddad was so old.”

“He knew Jesus, right?”

“He probably cursed Jesus for trespassing on the footpaths. That old fucker was the worst.”

“The worst,” she agrees firmly, snatching at a page and bringing it up to a settling expression. “Speaking of the worst, you got a light?” Lauren asks, straining at the handwriting she attempts to scan for the third time, squinting through her glasses.

“I mean… you got health insurance?”

“In this country?” she scoffs, “hell no, why?”

“Well,” you start, rubbing your hands together, “I could give that light thing another go.”

Her eyes narrow critically, and Lauren shuffles further away. “That crap from the other night? That you scared the bear thing off with?”

“Almost bear, yeah.”

“No,” she rejects, “no no no. You’re gonna fucking shoot me.”

You roll your eyes, offended but completely understanding her lack of faith. “C’mon, it’ll be fine.”

It takes her a moment to reply, but she doesn’t seem any more convinced. “Have you been practicing?”

Your slow response doesn’t fill her with confidence, her groan ruining your attempts to get her on side. “Nope. This’ll be a great time to practice.”

“I’m going to die,” she laments, slipping further in her seat.

“You’re not going to die.”

“Yes I am, oh god. This is it. This is the end…” She sits back up, beaming eagerly. “Well, go on then. Least I’ll die cool.”

“Gimme a fucking minute, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. In your own time, but soon cus we’ve got shit to do.”

“Don’t make me curse you out,” you murmur, attention already drifting.

Staring at your hand, tracing the curves of silver scars and lost in the clusters of ink staining your palm like stars across a night sky, you start to remember. It’s small at first, the feeling. Gentle and timid, pinching in your chest. But warm, surprisingly. Nothing like the searing cold that has surged through your fingers and buckled your elbow. Nothing like the freezing desperation that’d seen seen it fountain from your being like a burst damn.

Because you’re not afraid this time.

And why would you be? Clinging to the sheer fact you’ve done this before, on an admittedly larger and uncontrollable scale, is all you need. You can feel it. Like the light is trapped between your ribs, uncertain, but undeniable. Almost like the warmth of the first sip of a hot drink after walking through the snow, comfort pooling in your chest and stretching throughout your limbs. The thick blankets that come along with winter, or the roaring of a well established fire.

“You’re glowing.”

Glancing up, Lauren is watching you attentively. Eyes glued to your shoulders, her expression caught in the moonlight emanating from your skin. You smile, and airy laugh accompanying your excitement. “I can’t believe this.”

“You’re a night light.”

“Does it help?” you ask, shuffling closer to her to ward off the shadows the night is chasing across the documents.

She nods. “A little.”

The motion happens before you realise you’re doing it, focusing on the redirection of the light. It burns as it follows the lines of your veins, stinging at the wrist before it glows so brightly in your hand that you’re left squinting. A quick flick of your fingers disperses the light, scattering it towards the ceiling where it clings to the air. Suspended and glittering like stars caught by the roof.

“How about that?”

“I - holy fuck! Y/N, this is amazing! You know what we should do?” You can’t quite tear your attention away from the small balls of light, questioning her logic through numb lips. “We should order dinner!”

You rock back, your smile so broad your cheeks hurts. “Fuck yes we should.”

“Can I get HSP?”

“Nope.”

She slumps, groaning in a lackluster flail of limbs. “Ugh. What even is life?”

Tossing a journal at her, you grin. “I’m fucking kidding! Do you really think I’d live somewhere without HSP? I’m not a monster!”

“I want wine.”

“We can get wine.”

She thinks for a moment. “And whiskey.”

“And whiskey.”

-

“Looks like Ryan was right,” Lauren says eventually, feeling no need to hide her disappointment. She slumps in her seat, head resting on the couch while she shares her grievances with the ceiling. “We haven't learnt anything new. Gotta admit, your lumberjack lover is thorough. You and Michael may have figured out that the story is linked to all this, but this Turner person is useless.”

The weight on your shoulders grows heavier, anxiousness scratching against your ribs. Frustration clinging to the hair your force from your face, scalp lined with the effort to sooth yourself. A swig of whiskey doesn’t help. “There has to be something, Lol, there’s a truth to every story somewhere. We can't just give up.”

She bristles through a sip from her glass, though barely. “There's only so many times we can read about some woman and her rambling tea habits. I mean, fuck, who drinks this sort of shit?”

“I do,” you reply, offended and rosy cheeked.

“You're the only one.”

Then it hits you, knocking the air from your lungs with enough force that, if you were standing, you'd buckle into the realisation. Lauren sees the shift, watching the energy that had been draped across your shoulders dissipate. Breaking away and fracturing into golden shards as you rock onto your knees.

You're eager, enough to have her waking up from the sleepy alcohol stupor she's almost ready to let take her. “You're right, that's it!”

“What’s it?”

“The tea - the bloody tea thing! You said that I'm the only one that drinks that sort of shit.”

Her brow furrows, struggling to follow as you start rifling through the pile of information. “You and Turner, yeah.”

You emerge beaming, clutching the journal Lauren had tossed aside in disgust. “And what did you mean by shit?”

“What?”

“Type of tea, Lol. What makes up the tea?”

“Herbs and weird flowers and that kinda gross stuff.”

You nod, not even bothering to correct her on the subtle act of tea making, or calling out her strict reliance on camomile or sugarless coffee. Instead you're smiling, flipping through the pages. “Why?”

“Why what?” She pulls a face. “I swear I am going to kill you. It’s too late for this shit.”

“Why do I use those ingredients?”

“Cus they're fucking awful and you hate yourself? C’mon, Y/N. Just tell me!”

Fingers drum against the file, incessant while you stare. When she doesn’t respond your eyes roll. “Witches drink tea.”

Lauren’s face goes blank, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing beneath her unruly bangs. Her mouth opens with a small pop, hands starting to flap as excitement sees her bouncing. “Witches drink tea!”

You smack the folder to punctuate the point, rocketing to your knees and shuffling over to her as fast as you can. Thrusting your file under her nose, you tap at the margin lined with tea recipes. “Exactly! Witches drink tea. This is the type of stuff I drink when I’m feeling paranoid.” You pull it back, flipping through the pages. “Look, she’s got teas for calming, teas for sleep, teas for cleansing, teas for all emotional healing-”

“That’s crazy!” Lauren exclaims, yanking the closest free journal over and scanning for herself. “The tea shit is everywhere.” She snaps the book shut, moving on to another that’s exactly the same. “Holy fuck.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to figure that out. It all looked normal to me,” you manage, lowering the text into your lap and sitting back down, fingers tangled in your hair while you stare out the window. The cold screams back, faint whispers of snow caught in the lights glowing outside. “It’s kinda sorta really fucking weird. You reckon she was a proper witch, or that she was just really good with tea?”

Lauren makes a weird noise, shrugging. “I dunno, I’m going with no, though? Tradition carries a lot of weight, and recipes and tea properties are used by people without magic all the time. Turner hasn’t done anything remotely witchy that I’ve noticed. Shame the son didn’t keep any journals. There’s nothing from him in this pile. You’d have thought that if your mum was actually a witch you’d want to write some cool stuff down.”

“Moira was incredibly thorough... Her whole life up until her disappearance is here. All we’ve got on the son - oh god, what’s his name?”

“We don’t have a name.”

“Great,” you groan, “brilliant. Fucking fantastic. All we’ve got on no-name-Turner is stuff from his mum and the other crap from the town plans before it all just stops. There’s not even any mention of markings on doorways and stuff.”

She nods, frustrated and exhausted. “Great. We’ve got tea recipes and a man that just disappeared along with his record keeping skills-”

A loud crash cuts her off, the rattle of a lock and smack of a door knob hitting the wall followed by a quick succession of frantic footsteps pounding down the hall. But it’s nothing in comparison to the roarious laughter. Alfredo and Trevor stumble through the door arm in arm, tripping over their feet and bouncing against the entryway. Silly beams split across their faces when you and Lauren glance up, Alfredo breaking away and collapsing on the couch, somehow managing to shove his hand cheekily across your face in the process. The surprise has your concentration shattering, along with the orbs of light you’d managed to keep strong up until this point. Though the alcohol had seen them lower, most of the light having hovered around your elbows rather than dusting the ceiling as they originally had. They dissipate quickly now, dropping the room into the firelight.

Trevor wastes no time in launching forward, letting his momentum carry him into Lauren’s lap despite her half hearted protests, curling up in her arms and determined not to move. “Hey there baby,” he muses sleepily, lost in the smile she presses to his forehead. “Did you miss me?”

“Miss you?” she laughs, running her fingers through his hair, “not at all.”

“It was actually really nice,” you confirm, leaning against Alfredo’s shoulder, “I haven’t had peace and quiet in a long time.”

“Nahh,” Alfredo groans into the couch cushions, turning to face you. His expression crushes, balling into something so comical that you can’t hold in the sniggers. “You missed us. You always miss us.”

“Shut up,” you groan happily, batting away the hand he uses to mess up your hair. “You shut the hell up Fredo, or I’m kicking your ass to the curb.”

“Fine,” he exclaims, sitting up suddenly, “but we made friends, Y/N. New friends. Better friends. One of them was a cop-”

“A drunk cop!” Trevor chimes in too close to Lauren’s ear, causing her to bite back a wince.

“A drunk cop!” Alfredo agrees, swinging his arm around. “And there was a coffee man with this… this beautiful hair. And a British person! I’ve never seen a British person more English than he was.”

“Made up words,” coos Trevor, flailing in Lauren’s arms, “made up words he did!”

“He did! You know what?” Alfredo glares, the expression not quite holding the same accusations they would if he were in the least bit sober. “I’m gone go stay with Gavin. Ma man will look after me.” He moves to stand, swaying as he swipes one of the journals from the top of a pile, squinting at the spidery writing like he’s forgotten how to read. “Maybe I’ll take him this damn book as some firewood, huh? Huh, Y/N? How’d you like dat? Fucking kick my ass to the curb, you animal. You… wait - what is this? This thing that I’m holding?”

Lauren doesn’t miss a beat, smiling sweetly into his confusion. “Alfredo, that’s a book.”

He blinks hard at her, leaning into the motion and holding his eyes closed and eyebrows together for far too long. “I know what a book is.”

Trevor nods into the crook of Lauren’s neck, nuzzling into her like he’s desperate for warmth. She spares him an unsympathetic pat on the head, giving his hand a firm squeeze. Trevor can’t hide his grin. “Sauce can’t read.”

“I can read!” Alfredo wails dejectedly at his drunk friend, offended. Returning to the page that seems to have insulted him so much, he jabs a finger to it’s margins. “I’m talkin’ bout this crazy chick. She’s as weird as you. Yes, you, Y/N. Look. Look, are you looking? Looky. C’mon, just look! See? She’s does the same crazy shit that you do!”

Only minorly outraged, you press a disgruntled frown to your face. “Crazy shit? Rude.”

He pays you no mind, continuing to sway while he fails to grab your hand - not once, but twice - before pulling you unwillingly to your feet. Gripping his elbow to ensure he doesn’t clatter to the ground, you make sure he’s steady before peering at the passage he keeps indicating too. “Well, look,” Alfredo starts, “this bitch be doin’ these weird ass symbol things that you do.” A clumsy finger drags down the side of the page, gliding over ink splattered and familiar illustrations. “See? You see dat? Look at dat… you looking? Dawg, just look-”

“Yeah,” you reply, cutting him off. “Yeah, I’m looking. I didn’t, wait - how didn’t I notice these? This changes everything.” Your attention breaks away from the page, settling on Lauren. She watches you, equally shocked. “This means that Moira was a witch.”

“Course she was a witch!” reprimands Alfredo, “your lumberjack man even told you it was a witch hunt.”

Lauren scowls, struggling around Trevor until eventually standing. He doesn’t want to follow, but reluctantly does; gripping the couch like a lifeline. “Yeah, but the people in witch hunts weren’t actually witches. They were just poor women that we’re caught up in stupid superstitious bullshit. And Turner didn’t do any of the usual shit people used to accuse witches of.”

“So that means she can’t be a witch?” Trevor questions, paling slightly with the churn of his stomach. “How closed minded.”

Alfredo nods eagerly in agreement. “You two see this shit every day, so course you didn’t recognise it as weird. Us normal fucks don’t. This bitch is a witch!”

A hand you can’t deem to be excited or nervous shifts through your hair, brushing away the exhaustion of a long night. You stare at Alfredo, watching him vibrate proudly. “You’re kidding,” you manage around an incredulous laugh, “we spent hours doing this. Hours! We found the tea thing, but we couldn’t pin that to a witch properly. And then you come stumbling in here and do it in 2 minutes?!”

Lauren grins. “That means I can go to bed!”

Your face falls. “It means we’ve got a lot of stuff to do-”

“Bed!” she reiterates, snatching Trevor’s hand and making her way towards the stairs without a backwards glance. “C’mon, Trev, we’re celebrating.”

Alfredo watches them go, offering a clumsy wave to his friend before turning back to you. He looks awkward, pleading. “Please, I don’t wanna celebrate.”

“Hurtful, but mutual,” you agree. His face brightens in relief. “You want a hot chocolate with marshmallows?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, scampering towards the couch and curling up on the cushions. “By the fire with blankets.”

“Done,” you laugh, collecting a bunch and unfurling them over him, watching his face gleefully reappear from beneath the throws. He’s grinning, cheeks threatening to split. Childhood innocence oozes from the expression, eyes sparkling in the light. “We’ll watch Brooklyn Nine Nine?”

You didn’t think it were possible, but he smiles even wider. Wiggling in his spot, he can’t hold in the excited squeal that follows you into the kitchen, sound lost in the sound of the kettle and clatter of cups. “Y/N, you’re my gurl!”

Smiling, you don’t have to turn around to know that he’s already drifted off to sleep.

[an-implied-motherfucker]

Hello, friends! Since it’s become increasingly irritating to write long posts on here now, I’m moving my updates here! Sorry for any inconvenience, it’s just much easier to update this way. There’s a new chapter on this site, by the way! Chapter 6: Show Me Your Tricks is FINALLY up!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.7 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter. 6 Chapter 8.

Silk

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Reader has an emotional breakdown, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

 While Rex and a few others scouted ahead, You took a desperate shot in the dark.

“General Krell,” you had the comm close to your lips, “We need the medical speeder. There's several wounded that need to get out of here.”

You were met with silence.

“Sergeant Appo, if it's you i'm talking to, get me General Krell before I shove my laser scalpel up your-”

“That will be unneeded, Doctor.” the General’s voice came through on the other end, “The wounded will be extracted when the airbase has been taken.” 

“Sir, some of the wounded can’t wait that long. They need to get to a safer location so I can-.” You were practically begging the Jedi at this point.

“I have the utmost faith that you’ll be able to save them from where you are.” He responded, but even on this end, you could practically hear the uninterested look on his face. You were about to respond but the comm cut. Krell was done with you.

You looked around you, taking in the injured. Three of them needed surgery. Two needed bacta tanks ASAP. Five were entirely unconscious from blood loss and missing limbs.

And one, Fisher, was leaning against a broken and destroyed AT-RT. His chest had been completely eviscerated, exposing broken ribs and damaged organs. You couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have the bacta or supplies to save him. Yet, it would take hours for him to die. 

So you held his hand in yours and gave him as many painkillers as it took to stop his heart. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. 

“Doc?” Nax had remained close, guarding you while Rex and the others went ahead, “Are you ok?” 

“No, Nax.” You admitted, “I’m not.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had to mercy kill. But you hated yourself every time you did it.

He remained silent as he stepped towards you and offered a hand. He was sweet. Very polite. So you took it and stood, “Thank you.” 

The trooper looked like he was about to speak when the ground rumbled. Terror filled your blood. Were there more of those worm tanks!? The air crackled and burned with fire and explosives. They sounded different from the centipede tanks the men shot down earlier…new weapons? You desperately hoped not.

Several soldiers dove over your cover, breathing heavily. Very quickly others joined, remaining hidden. You didn’t want to risk your head to get a look at what was happening. So you knelt, looking at Jesse, who had made it before Rex or the others. He met your confused and worried gaze before answering, “Heavy tanks.”

Rex, followed by Kix and Fives, got to your position. the captain had his comm on, speaking hurriedly, “Sir, we’re overpowered. we need reinforcements!”

“The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance of the gorge, captain.” Krell was on the other end, sounding about as calm and uninterested as when you called, “They're guarding it so your troops can break through to the air base.”

Jesse jerked his head up, sharing a look with Hardcase. Seemed everyone expected such a cold response, but it was still despair-inducing to hear.

A shot exploded directly on the other side of your cover. The heavy tanks were attempting to break through the trees and roots that protected everyone. Another shot hit right above you, raining scorched plant matter down.

You dove towards an unconscious, bleeding trooper and held him close, using your body to protect him from the debris. Once everything passed, you got to work stabilizing him. 

Rex continued to argue with the General, “But sir, we can’t possibly-!”

“You must stand your ground!” Pong fucking Krell shouted from his comm, “Do you read me!? Captain, are you listening? Do not fall back! That's an order!” 

Your lover was unmoving. He was paralyzed in horror that Krell would still push this suicide mission. After a few heartbeats, he shook his head. 

Two voices cried out from the otherside of the cover. You and Kix shared a look before scrambling over to grab them and drag them with the others. Your hands were on one trooper and getting his wounds under control while Kix was dealing with the other.

��Keep the wounded as quiet as possible.” The clone captain nodded to you before addressing everyone else, “Alright, you heard the general. Let's go.”

Jesse whirled around from where he kept an eye on the battlefield, “You can't be serious!”

“I used to think the General was reckless,” Fives spat, “But now I'm beginning to think he just hates clones.”

Dogma stepped forward, clear on which side he stood, “The captain is right. Now let's move out!”

The trooper, Trident, under your hands spasmed. He seized, and you did your best to get him on his side and let the seizure pass, “With who!?” you snapped, cracking under the stress, “Everyone is injured and exhausted or dead!” Trident stilled in your arms, and once you felt his neck, there was no pulse. 

The traumatic brain injury he sustained was too much for him. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

“Isn’t it your job to patch everyone up!?” He retorted, “With all the dead, you certainly are doing a great job!” 

Your eyes widened and Hardcase shot forward, immediately punching Dogma, sending him to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted down at the trooper, “You’d be among the dead without Kix and-!”

“Hardcase! Enough!” Rex stepped between them, keeping his gaze level with the heavy gunner, “Fighting each other isn’t going to help.” Despite his words, he cast a glance at you.

Your eyes met him in his helmet. He was checking on you, in his own way. So you nodded, indicating that Dogma’s words didn’t affect you. You’ve been blamed before. Troopers that were grief stricken would lash out at you, blame you for your failings to save their brothers. Though, later, they’d come to you and apologize. You expected Dogma wouldn’t.

Still, you appreciated how Tup knelt to put a hand on your shoulder. Dogma didn’t look at you as he got up.

“What will help is finding another way to deal with the tanks!” Fives got into Rex’s face, clearly angry. Judging by the way his hands clenched into fists, he was ready to start getting physical too, “We can’t take them head-on.”

The captain remained steadfast, “You got any ideas?”

The ARC trooper looked down and shook his head, keeping silent.

“Then this is it.” Rex looked over at the men who remained standing, and turned to get out into the field. 

Hardcase huffed, adjusting the rocket launcher in his grip, “Ok, let's do it!” He, along with Jesse, Tup and Fives sprinted out. Kix was about to follow before he stopped and looked back. 

“Go. Send anyone hurt to me.” you nodded, remaining with the injured. He gave a salute before rushing to follow his brothers. 

Since the squad of soldiers had run out, all attention from the tank shifted to them. No longer were the trees that protected you threatening to fall or collapse from the shots. You looked over your cover, spotting the second tank that was shooting the trees across the field. Its focus was on the men who were fleeing into the foliage to hide. 

A trooper high in the branches fired a rocket. The explosive didn’t do much other than cause the massive tank to stumble. Once it corrected itself, it blasted the poor clone with its cannon.

You waited for the Umbaran to turn its focus away from that side before moving in. Your feet were quick, diving behind downed AT-RT’s, boulders and whatever other cover you could hide behind. 

Once you made it to him, you realized the trip was worthless. He was dead. Half of his body was gone the moment he was hit with cannon fire. 

But he wasn’t alone. Someone else was down, crying and writhing in pain.

Arm missing. Main problem is blood loss. Still awake. I have time. I can save him.

You got to your knees quickly, skidding on the wet ground as you did so. Your pack was off your shoulders as you began to get as many gauze pads and bandages on him as possible. Your hands were stained with his blood as you controlled the bleeding. 

“Come on,” you draped his good arm over your shoulder and stood, “I’m getting you with the others.”

You watched the tank again, waiting patiently before dashing to another point of cover. Getting back to the injured was slower this time, but you managed to get there. Leaning the trooper against a tree root, you commed Krell again, “General, I need the supplies on that speeder!” 

There was only silence. 

“General Krell!” You were desperate, and your voice was shaking from the fear. Fear for the men. Fear they wouldn’t even get a chance to survive, “General Krell, please!” 

Nothing. Unanswered. 

Your hands were shaking and you let out a frustrated, angry cry. The names of the dead replayed in your head over and over again.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

No. You still had supplies on you. You weren’t giving up. You refused. 

A trooper stumbled over the cover, carrying an ARF trooper. You recognized Silk and Hinge.

“Doc, he needs help.” The trooper slid the injured carefully down. 

Before you even inspected him, you could tell Hinge was barely hanging on, if he was even alive. His armor was blacked and scorched. Smoke still billowed from his body. When you approached, you felt his neck. 

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, Silk.” you murmured, taking off Hinge’s helmet. Carefully, you closed his eyes before standing. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge.

“...we’re all dead, aren't we?” Silk sat down, leaning against the tree. 

You hesitated to answer. Truthfully, you thought so. You wanted to agree. To accept the truth that Krell won and lead all of you to your deaths.

But…Rex would keep fighting. Your kar’ta wouldn’t go down without taking as many separatists as possible down with him. 

You looked at your hand, testing if you could close it in the brace, luckily, you could. You could feel the movement. Feel your fingers on your palm. Your arm, despite the immense damage, was healing. Your nerves were connecting. Your veins and arteries were directing blood flow again. Your body refused to give up.

You could still fight. Just like Rex would.

“No.” your voice was resolute, “I’m not giving up.” You looked over the injured. More had managed to find your location in various states of bleeding, dying or crying, “I’m not giving up on any of you. Even if I have to pick up your rifles to protect you, I’m not giving up.”

Silk sighed and stood, “Doctor,” he saluted, “I am at your command.” 

You couldn’t help but smile softly, “I’ll need your help. Stay within cover, prioritize your safety, but look for any injured. Bring them to me.”

“I’ll help.” Hem, another ARF trooper stood, rotating his arm to stretch his shoulder, “I’m not too hurt.”

“Thank you both.” you saluted as they climbed out of the safety of the trees and roots. The ground shook with another cannon shot nearby. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be out of view. Or the Umbarans weren’t interested in killing those who couldn’t fight back. 

Still, since those heavy tanks weren’t focused on you, it allowed you to continue your job. These soldiers were your patients. They needed you. They needed your skills. And with whatever supplies you had left, you’d try to save them.

So you got to work. Triage. Deal with the more serious injuries. Prioritize. 

Your training took over. You were on autopilot weaving between the troopers. Your supplies dwindled. You ran out of painkillers and bacta entirely. Your tourniquets were the lifesavers at this point. Using them allowed you to spread your bandages and gauze pads between everyone.

Despite your effects, you still lost a few.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno.

At some point Tup had made his way back to you, followed by Hem, carrying Zeke. Silk wasn’t accounted for, but you trusted he would be alright. 

“Doctor,” Tup got to your side, “How can i-?”

Wordlessly, you handed him bandage scissors. He looked confused, even as you removed the minimal armor plating on your sleeve. As a field doctor, armor wasn’t the priority, medical supplies were. You had some plates on your wrists, thighs and chest, but that was about it. Everything else was covered in protective clothing to allow more medical packs and more freedom of movement. 

Which came in handy, “Cut the sleeve up to my shoulder, and then cut it into long strips.” you commanded Tup. 

“Ok…don’t move. I don't want to accidentally nick you.” The poor clone sounded unsure, shy even, but did as you asked. Despite his shaky hands, he kept the shears steady enough to prevent any small injuries to your skin. Once the cloth was separated, you slipped your arm from the sleeve and returned your focus to the other troopers.

Tup was an efficient assistant. Not even a minute later he had the sleeve cut into lengthy straight strips. You grabbed them silently and used them as extra bandages. 

The ground rumbled and shook. One of the tanks was getting close. Too close. You looked up, taking a chance to peer out into the battlefield.

Three heavy tanks were damn near on top of you as they chased those on the field. Through their shining spotlights, you recognized the silhouette of Rex and Jesse running across the field. Rex had a rocket launcher, and with a broken heart, you realized Hardcase must’ve gone down. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Hardcase…

Hardcase.

“Doc!” You jerked your head up, Silk had returned with another trooper slung over his arm. Once he put the unconscious soldier down, he went back out into the field before you could stop him. 

Kix had found you. He was standing on top of a thick root, back to the tanks, looking over the injured you've collected. Something in him snapped because he shook his head before letting out a cry. Your medic friend began to fire his rifle in the air wildly. 

Tup shot up, “Hey, Kix, put it down! You're wasting aim!” When words didn’t work, he body slammed Kix down to the ground, saving him from the massive foot of a tank.

The Umbaran weapon turned its cannon to where Tup and Kix hit the ground. Before it could annihilate the two, it was hit by a rocket. The explosion caused it to stumble, and its powered up shot hit the branches above your triage area. 

Rex had gotten to your position, standing on a toppled tree that was part of your cover. In his arms was a smoking rocket launcher. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but think of how handsome he looked. Smoke and ash billowing around him. Back straight, standing tall and determined. You could picture his focused gaze under his helmet now. 

The tank readjusted, stabilizing its huge legs. It focused on the captain and was then joined by the two others. They all charged their shots, ready to destroy Rex completely. You ran towards him, intending to grab his hand and…do something! Save him!

Die with him.

Just as your fingers met his, shots rained down from the dark sky. Two Umbaran starships were shooting wildly. Their guns poured out bright green bolts like water, hitting everything they pointed at. 

You looked up and inside the glowing, round cockpit of the Umbaran ships were Fives and Hardcase! They were laughing, trying to navigate the never-before-seen tech.

They were alive!

“Clear out, captain!”

“The big guns have arrived, sir!”

The 501st captain wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as the tanks exploded. He leapt from the position on the tree and held you close. 

Their rayshields weren’t made for their own shots it seemed. They buckled and broke, breaking down and exploding from their own weaponry. That didn’t stop them from trying to shoot at the clone controlled air support. Thankfully, Fives and Hardcase were doing a good enough job flying; they managed to avoid getting shot down.

Fives and Hardcase skillfully cleared the field. They managed to keep control well enough to finally destroy the heavy tanks that have taken so many good men. As the burst and exploded, killing the Umbarans inside, there were cheers and celebrations.

“Woo-hoo!”

“Attaboy, Hardcase!” 

“Way to go Fives!”

Once Rex stood to cheer with his brothers, you dashed to Kix. The medic had calmed down and was tending to the injured, “I’m entirely out of bacta and gauze.” He looked up at you, “and I can see you’re out of bandages.” 

You nodded, snapping your focus back on the injured troopers. The fight had been brutal. Even those that had managed to get to you alive, were fading fast. For every soldier you saved, it was like two more perished from their wounds. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

You repeated their names. Over and over again in your head. As the quiet took over, Kix helped you with the hurt and dying that crawled their way to your position. You didn’t look up, even as reinforcements ran passed to take that fucking airbase.

“Doc, we need help!” Was the only statement that caused you to bring your eyes up. 

Silk managed to stumble from the smoke. His right arm had been ripped off and his chestplate was shattered. His left hand was placed over his stomach, keeping his innards inside his abdomen. 

“Kix!” You practically howled, bolting from where you were tending to Jesse’s gashed wrist. 

You sent Silk out there! You were the one who asked him to risk his life for others! 

Your hands were on him, getting him to the ground, “I got you, Silk. I got you.” You breathed, ripping off the pieces of his armor. Kix was next to you, scrambling to get the situation under control.

Tup had managed to get a hold of the medical speeder. Krell must’ve finally brought it into the gorge when reinforcements were sent in. Ken and Rin were still on the stretcher, but you didn’t pay them any mind as you threw open crates and bags, scrambling to get supplies. 

Bandages. Bacta. Gauze. Sutures.

Supply levels were low. There wasn’t enough for everyone. But you grabbed everything you could and darted back to Silk.

He was still down, but Kix had stopped trying to treat him. The medic removed his helmet and looked at you, sorrow and despair evident. 

“No!” You dropped what was in your hands and immediately straddled Silk. Your hands were on his chest as you began compressions. The cartilage of his ribs cracked and broke as you began CPR. You were in a frenzy to bring him back, throwing his helmet away to pinch his nose and breathe for him.

Something in you broke. The situation finally hit you and your mind shattered. You sent Silk out to find his brothers. Silk returned injured. Dying. It was your fault. You got Silk killed. 

Dogma was right. You had failed so many of these troopers. They relied on you to keep them alive, and you failed in your duty.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Tears blurred your vision but you weren’t going to stop. Kix said your name, but you ignored him. He grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved him off, “How long!?” you demanded before getting your lips on Silk’s to force air into his lungs. 

“4 minutes,” Kix informed you, “He’s been down for 4 minutes. It’s time to stop.”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“No it isn’t!” you snapped. Kix looked up at someone who approached. Another injured soldier? He could deal with it. You had to save Silk.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

5 minutes now of compressions. 5 minutes of forcing oxygen into Silk’s lungs. 5 minutes of forcing his heart to beat. Yet it couldn’t function on its own. There was too much damage.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Someone grabbed you and you howled as if burned. Your compressions stopped to thrash and fight. You weren’t giving up. Not on Silk. Too many have been lost. You couldn’t handle losing one more. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Whoever was holding you had fallen backwards, getting both of you to the ground. They called your name, but you refused to listen. You clawed at their armored wrist, trying to get their hold off of you.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“I’m not giving up!” Tears were running down your cheeks. You’d finally broken. Under the loss. Under the death and destruction of the soldiers you failed to save. You kicked your legs and tried to get out of the arms that had wrapped around your torso. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

Silk.

Silk.

Silk.

“I know.” Their words, Rex’s, finally reached you. He was hugging you from behind so tightly, “I know, Mesh’la. I know.” His helmet was off and he whispered softly into your ear.

Your breath shook as you let out a wretched sob. You’ve lost soldiers before. They’ve died under your care. But never this many. 

Too many. There were too many! 

You wept, leaning into Rex’s chest, “I’m sorry…” you cried out, “I can’t save them. I can’t…I’m sorry Rex…Please…forgive me!” Your begging and pleading devolved into more sobbing. You’ve failed him. You’ve failed the man you loved and all of his brothers.

Rex remained silent, continuing to hold you.

[ladymogar-archive]

“You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting vry suspicious” with Adam Kovic mayhaps bc he is a kind giant

The RTX after-party was bigger than you’d expected, with people crowding the small area, and you soon found yourself nearly lost in the sea of bodies.

“There you are!” You feel a hand grab yours and turn, sighing in relief that Adam found you. “I was beginning to think you either didn’t show up or you were lost in here somewhere.”

“It was very nearly that second one there for a minute.” You tell him. You grasp his hand a bit tighter as he leads you to the back corner. As you get closer, you can see the Willems, the Joneses, and Geoff all huddled around one table. 

“Ay, Y/N!” James greets you cheerfully.

“We already grabbed you a drink!” Lindsay says, passing the glass to you. 

“Ooooh, thanks.” You take it happily with your free hand and immediately sip at it. It’s sweet and a little tangy, but good. Adam picks up what you assume is his drink from before his search for you, but his other hand keeps a firm (but gentle) grasp on yours.

You all continue to chat, with people coming up occasionally to say hello and meet everyone. Over the course of the night, Adam did finally drop your hand, but he made sure you stuck close anyway. When you finally decided to leave, Adam decided to go with you. You said goodbye to the Willems, the only ones to have stayed the full night, before working your way outside. 

“Hey, it’s this way.” Adam leans down to say so you could hear him. He grabs your hand again and leads you outside, where you both sigh in relief and grin at each other. 

“Oh, um, excuse me?” You turn and there’s a young guy standing to the side. He pushes the hair out of his face and grins nervously at the two of you. “Could, um, could I get a picture with y’all?” 

“Sure, I don’t mind.” You agree and Adam shrugs, no argument. After snapping the picture, Adam is immediately by your side again, your hand in his. You can tell he’s getting tired.

“Thanks so much.” The guy grins at you then eyes where your hands are entwined. “So, it’s true, huh? That y’all are dating?”

“What?” You ask.

“Sure.” Adam says. You look up at him in surprise, but play it off in front of the stranger. He finally says bye and heads back inside the party so you and Adam walk to the parking lot.

“We’re dating, huh?” You asking, waving your hands around. Adam blushes a bit and drops your hand.

“I really just wanted to leave as soon as possible.” He explains.

“It’ll be all over Twitter by morning.” You point out, reaching out to grab his hand again as you near your car. “Oh, god, I can’t drive, I had drinks.”

“I’ll take you back to the hotel, I stuck to nonalcoholic tonight.” Adam says, tugging you towards his car now. “And it’ll just be another rumor, same as always.”

“Except that dude will think you were being for real and no one is gonna think you lied to a fan.” You argue. 

“I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” Adam says, exhausted and drained and obviously tired of dealing with a lot of people.

“Or! You can take me on a breakfast date tomorrow! Then it wouldn’t be a lie and I could finally get you to go on a date with me.” You say cheerfully, swinging your held hands between the two of you. Adam is quiet for a long moment before he speaks up.

“Can we do lunch instead?”

[atinytouchofstardust]

Speaking of writing...

I used to post stories on here but I am completely useless with links and making them easy to find so I post all my stuff on AO3 now. If you want to read a few RT reader inserts, check out my AO3 page!

I really want to do more, I just need to get some inspiration :)

[mischi3f-manag3d]

Ok hear me out. I keep thinking about the prank Rooster Teeth did on Achievement Hunter where they made a carnival in the AH office. And Chris had the Chrissing booth and people paid him $5 to not have to kiss him. But like, can someone write something to where he does get kissed by his office crush or something? Like a chris x reader situation. I would die. 🥺❤

[adscititious-cacoethes]

“Remove the hand before I remove it for you” in the Petrichor universe with Michael?

This is in the same universe as Petrichor, but it’s not the exact same canon, because in the original I had a few allusions of Michael and Lindsay being together, and this took a romantic turn…

If you’re not super familiar with Petrichor, it is a modern fantasy AU with supernatural elements, and Geoff runs AH - a group of supernatural beings who act as a sort of pseudo police/gang group that monitors the supernatural presence of the city and deals with the stuff that the “normal” police wouldn’t be able to, and whatnot. 

Pairings: Michael J./ReaderWarnings: swearing, threatening violence, general warnings that should be given when Michael is involved. open ended, can be interpreted as kind of sad? idk, that’s for you to decide for yourself. 

Enjoy!

You can send me prompts here, read prompting “rules” here, or read my other stuff here!

________________________________________________________________

You were relatively new to Ramsey’s crew, but up until this point, you had gotten on with the rest of them like a house on fire.

Key words, of course, being “up until this point.” 

You weren’t sure what you had done, but for some reason, Michael had taken a sudden and acute stance change from “friendly” to “completely ignoring you.” 

As a fire nymph, you figured that the demon, whose original domain is bathed in fire and brimstone, would be the easiest person to become friends with. And at first, you thought that was true. Michael was charming, if a little hot-headed, and seemed to give you tiny, secret smiles when the others weren’t looking. It made your heart flutter in time with your wings. It wasn’t long after you started when he started saving you a muffin at breakfast when he knew that it was your favorite or sitting in the chair you had decided was your “favorite” chair for briefing meetings until you arrived so that it was saved for you. 

It was cute. Michael was cute. The two of you got along well. And it wasn’t more than a few months into your employment with AH that you realized you were starting to like him, in a schoolgirl crush/romantic sort of way. At first, you were too scared to admit it to yourself, however eventually (with a lot of needling from Jeremy, who had accidentally discovered your crush), you decided to stick out an olive branch and see where it led. 

But, as soon as you sent him a tiny, secret smile back one night after a particularly rough run-in with some Unseelie fae that had been causing a ruckus, the next morning - poof! - it was like you didn’t exist. 

And, frankly, after a week, it was starting to piss you off. 

The first thing you did after you realized that no, this was not just a “Michael-being-moody” thing and was, in fact a “Michael-pointedly-ignoring-you” thing, was go to Ryan. The vampire had been in charge of your little group outing, so he was the most logical person to ask if you had done something that would warrant Michael ignoring you.

When you had finally found the elusive Elder Vampire, holed up in his office (even though you had checked there thrice earlier and he had not been there before), he had just responded with a shrug and a wave of his hand. 

“It’s Michael,” he stated with a frown as he fiddled with a gadget that looked to be at least a century older than you were, “I try not to figure him out anymore. Gives me too many headaches.” 

“You say that about everyone.” You retorted shortly, hands on your hips.

Ryan blew hair out of his face, finally looking up at you, “Exactly. And you’re about to be added to that list of “everyone.” Ask Gavin or something, I don’t know.” 

—

Heeding Ryan’s advice, you waited a day or two to see if Michael got over his whatever, and when he hadn’t, you set out in search of Gavin.

The siren, turns out, much easier to find. 

“Hmm…” He pulled at his beard, looking off into the distance as you told him your tale. Something flashed across his unnaturally blue eyes - a glint of recognition, maybe? - but it was gone before you could have the time to pinpoint what you saw. 

“Well?” You huffed, tapping your foot.

“I dunno. He’s my Michael-boi, but he hasn’t said much to me about it.” Gavin finally said with a shrug that looked suspiciously like Ryan’s had, dancing away before you had the chance to probe him for further information.

—

It seemed, however, that while your brief chat with Gavin brought you to a dead end, it had also amped up Michael’s avoidance of you. Instead of just pretending you didn’t exist, he had escalated to making every excuse to leave the room as soon as you entered, swapping out with others on scouts and missions, and so on.

You endured this for three more days before you couldn’t take it anymore. Michael was in the kitchen, his back to you, and before you could realize what you were doing, you were striding towards him, cornering him in the kitchen.

“Michael, we need to talk -” You stated, putting your brave face on as you lightly grabbed his shoulder with your hand. 

He spun around with faster reflexes than you knew he had and glared at you. His eyes seemed forever dark, an inky black had spread into his irises from his pupils. You took a split-second to decide whether or not pissing off the demon was worth it.

You decided it was. 

“No, we fucking don’t. Remove the hand before I remove it for you.” Michael spat, trying to step away from you, but you were faster, reaching out and floating forward in time with his movements to latch onto his wrist, this time.”

“Yes, we do! I’m not leaving, Michael, not until I understand why you’re ignoring me.” You pushed, trying to portray your hurt and despair over his actions with your voice. If only he would understand.

“I said, get off!” Michael practically roared, wrenching out of your grip and you watched as his body began to smoke, inky black, and the smell of ash and fire burned your nostrils. 

You knew it was supposed to be a threat, a warning. But Michael was forgetting that you were also made from fire. You let your own aura glow, your fiery wings revealing themselves, and you felt the flames licking at the tips of your fingers.

“I just want to understand, Michael! Why are you ignoring me?” Despite your own show of power, you pleaded, unsure of how to get through to the hot-headed demon. 

The darkness that surrounded Michael vanished as quickly as it came, and he sagged back against the countertop, “I just…I like you, okay? I can’t risk you getting hurt. I can’t risk it happening, not again.” He sighed and brushed past you, and you, too in shock at his confession, let him go. 

It took you a moment to bring yourself back together, but once you did, you went back to searching for Michael. No matter what he thought, the conversation wasn’t over.

You weren’t giving up on him. 

[aplaceforrtprompts]

Oh my god okay so, this is really cheesy so completely understandable if you wanna pass on it: a tsf where Shane is Reader’s bf, and Reader is always a lil worried whenever he goes to one of those haunted places, and he figures that out when they hug him extra tight when he gets back? Maybe teases them a little? 💜💜

You heard the front door open and you bounded off the couch and towards your boyfriend. As soon as you saw Shane you took a huge leap, jumping onto him.

He laughed as he caught you, pulling you into a kiss as soon as you were back on your feet. As you broke apart, you pulled him into a tight hug as you always did when he came back from a haunted expedition.

Shane seemed to take notice of this and took a step back, still keeping you in his arms, “Everything okay?”

You gave him a sheepish look, “I just worry, you know?”

Shane chuckled, “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Ryan.” You punched his shoulder and he began laughing again. He pulled you in close and kissed the top of your head, “But I will always come back home to you. Don’t you worry.”

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 20

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 1600+

Date posted: 4 Nov 2018

“You guys gonna be alright finding your own way home?”

Lauren makes a noise on the other end of the phone, offended that you’d question her lacking sense of direction and desire for adventure. “Of course we will. If not, I know where the pub is.”

“At least you won’t starve out in the wilderness.”

“Excuse me?” Lauren laughs, the sound of snow crunching underfoot soft beneath her teasing. “Have you actually seen this place? There’s a bakery or coffee shop on every corner. I’m going to eat myself sick.”

“I have noticed, and it’s glorious. Oh, before I forget.” Your foot hits the cobblestone lining the town centre, gaze barely managing to focus on the three figures you assume to be your friends going the opposite direction of home. Lifting a hand, you wave. “Look to your right - no, other right. Hey. Hey, it’s me. So, tomorrow night I’m thinking of having Ryan over for dinner, if that’s all good by you guys?”

“Hold up a minute, bitch. Is this why you’re fucking glowing?”

“Glowing?”

Lauren gasps, loud enough for you to hear her across the expanse of the town. She jabs an accusatory finger at you, and you can almost see her glaring. “You’re lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, Y/N. The only reason for you being so happy-”

“- because I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“- is because something’s happened between you and lover lumberjack! Talk, right now. Or I’m jogging over there.”

You take a step back, testing the distant yellow figure. “You wouldn’t run.”

“You wanna go?”

-

Despite her threats, Lauren hadn’t pursued you further than the fountain. Trevor had managed to swoop in and stop the yelling, lifting her in his arms until her shouting redirects to him. He’d implored that you keep running, that he’d sacrifice himself for your life, and you’d taken him on it. Jogging most of the way to the police station until the laughter had faded and your lungs burn, throat raw with fresh air and giggles.

“Are you dying?” Michael’s voice makes you jump, whirling on him halfway through the station entrance with a tray of coffee cups. “Cus if not, I could use a hand holding this fucking thing open.”

“I mean, dying is a little extreme,” you manage, taking the stairs slowly and wedging the door open around him. “But you know, exercise will do that to you.”

“That’s why I don’t run anywhere,” he chuckles, “it’s not worth the pain.”

“You’re right,” you insist, thankful for the ache of your body as the artificial warmth of the room washes over. “I’m never running again. Ever.”

“Y/N,” exclaims another voice from behind the reception desk, Jeremy moving around the woman stood beside him, “what’re you doing here? I thought you were taking the day off cus of your friends moving in.”

“I’ll end up picking them up from the tavern later on tonight, so I’ve got some time to kill.”

He smiles, taking you by the elbow and bringing you over. “In that case, let me introduce you to Jackie Butler from forensics. She’s been our go to girl with the Lumberjack of Motbury. Jackie, this is Y/N.”

The woman smiles, a beautiful expression that peels across elegant features. Bright hazel eyes sparkle behind thick lashes, face framed with sheets of chestnut hair. She offers a delicate but firm handshake, confident. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Jeremy was just telling me how you’ve rendered my job useless.” She laughs musically. “About time. I need a break. Bodies get a bit much, they don’t really hold a juicy conversation. Juicy everything else, but not conversation.”

“Okay, ew.” Jeremy wrinkles his nose, but Jackie rolls her eyes.

“Jackie comes down from the lab every now and again,” Michael continues, handing out the coffees, giving you the cup holder for the lack of anything else to offer. “We’ve been thinking about getting a full time forensics expert in now that the case is moving again.”

“That’s a great idea,” you agree, “is there anything new?”

“Eeehhh... C’mon follow me, we’ll head through and I’ll show you what I’ve got. I ordered pizza, so it won’t take long. I’m starving.”

You’re already pulling your phone out as their backs turn, fingers flying frantically across the keyboard while you follow them down the hall.

Y/N: Fredo, get to the police station.

Alfredo: Why? U good?

Y/N: Now.

Alfredo: You’re not making me less panicky

Alfredo: Cus now I’m panicking.

Alfredo: Cus you’re being weird.

Y/N: Can’t explain, about to go into a meeting. Just trust me. CUTE GURRRLLL.

“Hey Y/N, you alright back there?”

“Hmm?”

Jeremy raises and eyebrow, glancing at your phone. You quickly stash it away, smiling innocently when stepping back into the room he’s holding the door open too. The whiteboard inside is covered in images. Photographs of victims accompanied by trauma patterns of an array of weapon types, close ups on skull structures and significant wounds, and lists upon lists of dot points. Jackie adds some notes here and there while Michael takes a seat, the door closing with a soft click before Jeremy slips past and starts unloading the boxes tucked beneath the closest desk.

“We’ve compiled all of the files related to the case - which is a lot of paperwork, I wanna put that out there - and this is everything.” Jeremy shuffles the final box onto the table, taking off the lid. “This was the first victim, Jemma Perkins. She and number 2,” he points to another stack of files, “James Williams, were found with their skulls. After that none of the others were recovered.”

“Jeremy told me about your theory, Y/N,” continues Jackie, clicking the lid back on her pen, “about combining number 1 and 2 with the injuries experienced by the livestock, and we came to the same conclusion you did.” Jackie circles one of the images on the board with her finger. “We don’t have any of the skulls from the livestock, but we do have pictures. So we did a number of tests and confirmed your suspicions, based on what we had. It’d have to be a relatively heavy object, something big enough to cave in bone.”

You nod along with her words, standing before the board and taking in the wounds. “What about the lacerations, any ideas?”

Jackie shakes her head. “Nada. We haven’t been able to figure out what’d make that kind of pattern, let alone split skin like that.”

You pull a face. “It looks a lot like the grooves on the houses.”

Jeremy makes a displeased sound that rattles at the back of his throat. “So you’re saying we should look at the shape of animal claws to determine the weapon?”

It takes you a moment, but you eventually give the idea some credit. “I wasn’t thinking that, but it certainly might help. Could be a customised weapon.”

Michael sits up in his seat, leaning across the bench. “You’re thinking that we should track the marks, figure out when they started and compare it to the murders?”

“Yeah. We already know that the knocking and all of this started at around the same time, but we haven’t actually tied the damage to it. People have been saying all sorts.”

“Animals?” Jackie inquires curiously, perching on the end of a table. “I saw them on my way in. They look like bear claws or something out of a horror movie.”

“We’ve already determined that the killer is a human being,” Jeremy dismisses, waving a hand. “So I think It’d be safe to assume that the knocking was a person that drew an animal in.”

“But what if they’re connected further than that?” you push, Michael nodding by your side. “I can’t see an animal rocking up just in time for the person to leave every single time. Wouldn’t they go after the food that’s walking around, and not locked in a house box?”

Jeremy doesn’t respond immediately. “Animals aren’t smart. I honestly don’t think that animal marks are related-”

“I think it’s worth investigating,” interjects Jackie firmly, “just to rule it out.”

“There’s nothing to rule out.”

“Why won’t you at least try?” She’s growing frustrated, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

Jeremy fumes quietly, Michael taking over with a cheeky grin. “It’s because all the damn looneys in the town think the marks on their doors are from the Widow of the Woods.”

“Widow of the Woods?”

“It’s a local ghost story,” you explain, wringing your hands. “Jeremy is very against acknowledging that it could play a role in all this.”

“Because it can’t play a role! Ghosts aren’t real.”

“But copycats are,” you interject, “besides. We’re not going to go ghost hunting. We’ll be tracking the markings and applying it to the victims timeline. You don’t even have to think about Turner.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrow, curious but too confronted for pleasantries. “Turner?”

“Moira Turner. Badass, the first leader of Motbury, witch hunt victim that disappeared and searches for her lost son-”

“I don’t care, Y/N. I really couldn’t give a crap about the stupid story, or the people who believe it. Look. Whoever’s been telling you that this ghost story has any truth in it is crazy. We work with facts, not scary stories.”

“How are we supposed to work with facts if you refuse to let us find any? As detectives we investigate every lead, no matter how crazy it is.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Y/N, you’re not a detective!”

“I wish you’d realised that sooner, rather than forcing this fucking case on me!”

“Okay.” Michael scampers to his feet, putting himself between his friends as a form of crowd control. “How about this? Y/N and me will check out the marks, while Jeremy prepares an ‘I told you so’ speech. Yeah?”

“I like it,” you confirm curtly, gathering your things. “C’mon, Michael, let’s go do our jobs.”